


living on love,

by orphan_account



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Body Worship, Other, Protect Shane 2k16, Second Person, So here we are, i had a sinful dream and the idea would Not leave me alone, i'm so excited to marry shane, unapologetic smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 04:19:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6550540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The two of you have come a long way since that first night you introduced yourself - at the saloon with a bright, chipper smile. Still, time has been easy on the two of you: the night on the docks helping to ease your relationship along. It wasn't long, after that, that this started - this budding thing between the two of you. The way your heart pounds in your chest when you see him, the small, secretive smiles you exchange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	living on love,

**Author's Note:**

> Stardew Valley is such a pure, wholesome game. I'm so sorry that I wrote disgusting body worship fic about it. 
> 
> (Not sorry enough to stop me aYOO)

Your muscles ache from hours spent tilling the land, an ever-present sort of _burn_ that comes only after a hard day's work. It's a far cry from sitting in a cubile, day in and day out, but it's _worth_ it. To take a field that was nothing but overgrown weeds and an eyesore, and turn it into something functional and productive. You've carved yourself a space in the valley, in the town, and it's time to relish in what you've created: a successful farm, a successful repertoire with the townsfolk.

A _very_ successful repertoire with _some_ of them. 

Despite the bone-deep exhaustion, you're not _tired_. Not with this sight in front of you. Shane lays on the bed - your bed - with an arm thrown over his flushed face, chest _heaving_. You take a moment to memorize the sight of him arching off the mussed sheets - absolutely _loving_ this side of him. He's beautiful, _breathtaking_ , when he's laid out like this - completely at your mercy, and happy to be there. Here, with _you_. 

The two of you have come a long way since that first night you introduced yourself - at the saloon with a bright, chipper smile. Still, time has been easy on the two of you: the night on the docks helping to ease your relationship along. It wasn't long, after that, that _this_ started - this budding thing between the two of you. The way your heart _pounds_ in your chest when you see him, the small, secretive smiles you exchange. It's all sort of come together in these quiet, _wonderful_ evenings spent together - which was, in your opinion, far better than hours spent at the saloon, slamming back beers.

"C'mon," he says - _whines_ \- face flushing a deeper red under his arm. It must be because of the pause, where you're just admiring him - he's never quite liked that. Not used to being appreciated, not yet. 

You're steadily trying to change to change, that. though.

Shane seems to have a differing opinion, the way he whines, bumping his hips upward in an attempt to get your attention. 

"Please," he whines, high and keening. Trying to divert your attention elsewhere - namely, to the erection thick and tense between you. "Don't leave me hanging." 

You shift your weight, and the mattress squeaks in protest. Both of you are keen to ignore it, in lieu of the way you settle over his thighs. Thick and full of hair, and you grin as you lean forward just a bit. "Can't I just enjoy the view?" You ask, grinning - screwing your features up in a happy sort of pout. _Please?_

Because, _honestly_. How are you supposed to resist? The view is nothing less than delightful - his face is flushed, red behind his arm, and his cock, red and heady, makes a sticky mess where it rests on his stomach - each gasped breath making the slick spread more across his stomach. He whines again, the noise coming from the back of his throat, and his hands raise to settle upon either side of your waist. 

Brushes the back of his knuckles against your hip, digging fingernails into unblemished skin. "C'mon," he groans again, voice husky and absolutely _ruined_. "Please."

He doesn't really know why he's begging - or _what_ he's begging for - but it all comes together when you shift on your knees, slowly sinking down on him.

You both suck in a breath, shared in the way it hisses against clenched teeth, as you adjust the sensation. Shane is gorgeous below you, spread out beneath you, and the way he _flushes_ is just pretty as a picture.

The smirk you wear gets cut short by the way he rocks his hips up and against yours, a hiss clattering against your teeth. _Fuck._ It feels like coming home, like everything in your life has been leading up to this moment - his fingers spread against your hips as he thrusts up, quietly getting the upper hand. This evening was supposed to be solely about him about of him 0 but it seems that Shane has different ideals. You can't quite argue, not when he fits _so well_ against you, and knows just what buttons to press. You suck in a breath as he really starts to rock his hips upwards, meeting him for every stroke, your bodies working together in unison, in search of that _indescribable_ pleasure.

Never once did you think you'd ever be here - resting against his thick thighs, rocking yourself against him, and yet, here you are. It's been a quiet sort of courting - an particular sort of courting, both of you seemingly _drawn_ to the other. The sullen, rude man - the upbeat, energetic farmer. A quaint couple, and yet the two of you seem to complete the other - a special sort of _partnership_. That definitely has nothing to do with the noises he makes, this close to orgasm; it definitely has nothing to do with the way you grind yourself down against him. Toes curl as you press yourself closer, arching your spine against his touch, as you chase the end - a stuttering _gasp_ ripped from your throat when you tumble over the edge. You almost don't even notice the way he pulls out, spurting hot against your lower stomach, as he finishes with a _fantastic_ sort of groan. 

You remain hovering over thick thighs for a few moments before you collapse on the mattress next to him, tuck your face into the column of his neck. "Shane," you all but _purr_ against his throat; an unspoken sort of _thank you_ for these quiet evenings. Even without the sex, his presence offers you a sort of _wholesomeness_ that you've lacked since moving to the valley - you don't feel complete without him at your side. He breathes heavily against you, throwing a leg an arm over your prone form, and before you know it, he's enveloped you; all you can see, smell, _think_ is him. 

_Shane._

Before moving here, you'd never even _considered_ the idea of finding someone like him, but here you are. Tucked against his side, body humming with _completion_ that only he can bring. It's a beautiful thing, and not for the first time, you're so _fucking_ glad you decided to move to this valley. Decided to take over your grandpa's farm, and all the hardship it offered, if only for these few quiet moments, tucked into Shane's chest.

And, not for the first time, you remember Pierre's letter about now selling bouquets. Flowers that speak of something _special_. Maybe, one of these days, you'd summon the courage to present Shane with one. But until then, you're content like this - wrapped up and enveloped in everything that he has to offer, because nothing means more than _this_. These few, special hours, when all you know is each other. It's enough - if only for the moment; until you swallow all pride and offer yourself to him - completely and without judgement. Until then, you curl around him, breathing in the familiar scent of his aftershave, and smile. 


End file.
